


For God So Loved The World

by DavyJones



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavyJones/pseuds/DavyJones
Summary: Two days until Christmas and there are still a few things left to do. Like going to the fair. Or getting a Christmas tree.
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	For God So Loved The World

**Author's Note:**

> Written in November 2019, when we were still allowed outside.
> 
> Very loosely connected to [When Purls Start To Unravel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161436) but only concerns the few craft references.  
> \---  
> Title is from John 3:16.

A handful of sand hits his neck and Lewis turns around, a small branch in his hands like a baseball bat, ready to shoot back at the culprit instantly. If he’s honest with himself he should have known who it was and what picture would await him the second he felt the hard prickle of wet stone mixture on his neck but the sight of Nico cackling to himself almost gets him riled up enough to shout.

“Hey! Can you take this serious for one second please?!“

Nico sucks his cheeks in to unsuccessfully hide his laugh. “Lewis, please, look around, do you think Monaco beaches can provide you with anything but measly algae?”

“Yes?” The branch is waved before his face and scratches Nico’s nose lightly.

“You found this by a literal tree next to the house, the sea didn’t magically make it appear there. I don’t understand what made you think you could get a whole driftwood tree down here. I mean, I know it looks good on those Australian pictures, or Hawaiian even, but we live in a village that pretends to be clean as can be. Can we please go home, the water made my hands get cold.”

Lewis takes a deep breath to sigh and reaches for Nico’s hand. There’s still a bit of sand on them but he drags him closer anyway. “No. I won’t leave until we find a few more things and if it’s trash. Pray to the sea witch we’ll get something.”

They walk along the quiet waves, the stick dragging beside them like a small dog, getting pushed around ever so often. It gets stuck in the sand at one point from Lewis leaning on it and the tip breaks off; yet the branch stays with them. For now it shall remain the only item for their nonexistent Christmas tree. Lewis does start to wonder how on earth he thought he could make a tree out of things he finds outside. During winter.

The idea had sprung into his mind suddenly, like a memory that gets unburied by scent and half an hour later he had finally managed to talk Nico into going for a walk in the surprisingly chilly noon sun. Spotting the stick filled him with very uncalled for euphoric optimism that his plan was going to work. By the time they reach the end of the beach strip they are on, there is no extra piece of wood, no plastic bag, not a bottle more in their possession. On the plus side, Nico’s hand, albeit sandy, is now warm and Lewis hears no more complaints. The quiet walk continues until they’re back at their apartment building. One look makes Nico rub his hands clean of sand before entering.

-

Monaco winters aren't exactly known to be harsh but the warmth wafting towards them when the apartment door opens is still a blessing on cold skin. Shoes get pushed off and the underfloor heating starts reaching all the cold spots. Like by force of habit, Nico walks towards the kitchen counter and reaches for the kettle. “Tea?” he asks.

“No, thanks, I was thinking maybe we’re feeling more in the mood for warm cocoa?”

Nico shrugs and pours the water he had already gotten from the tap into the closest plant. As he rubs the drops away he remembers something. “We don’t have any cocoa though, you used it all up during the last bakescapade and didn’t buy a new pack because of that video on child labour on cocoa plantations. How are you going to make cocoa without cocoa?” He must admit, he does agree though. They should be more aware of what they buy and what its production entails, the video had been horrendous and he had refused to look further into it that day, the thought of his privilege in comparison making him feel sick. But that doesn’t solve the problem at hand.

“We might not have cocoa”, Lewis starts, “but w-“. His wrist is held up and the stick he was still gripping is pulled out of his hand. “You made me clean my hands before even getting in and now you want to put the stick that has touched Lord knows what on the counter? The counter we also put food on?” All Lewis does is roll his eyes, not without a smirk, and reaches around Nico and opens a drawer, then continues: “but we have this.” He holds up something that looks suspiciously bunny shaped.

“Is that still left over from Easter?”

“Yup.”

“Isn’t that chili flavoured?”

“Also yup.”

“Are you aware that it’s not cocoa anymore when you use actual chocolate?”

“Yes, but as you so kindly pointed out, we don’t have any cocoa.”

“Okay, that’s good, just checking on your perception today, Mr. Driftwood.”

The chocolate that is consequently thrown at him falls to the ground in a sad curve and shatters, breaking off the bunny’s ears which slide across the floor.

-

“Hey, did you notice that we haven’t been to the Christmas village yet this year?”

The question makes Nico look up from knitting one of the last last-minute presents for this year. A sip of their improvised cocoa is still in the mug, cold now. He had seen bits of the village, especially its glow, even passed it, but he hadn’t noticed that they have yet to take a stroll around it.

“This year’s motto is apparently ‘White Christmas’.”

“‘White Christmas’? Wishful thinking must be flying high this year.” Not like it never snowed in Monaco, it did, more times than anyone would expect it to but to most people’s disappointment it never stuck around for long. It made sense to want the snow to stay but the thought of ice palaces and needing snow boots down here was a bit laughable to him.

“Very original, I know, I get it. Haha,” Lewis scoffs. “Now do you fancy an adventure later on or not?”

“Yes, sure, of course. Let’s delve into the unknown monégasque arctic regions. Just let me finish these last few rounds of pattern and finish the spice chocolate and I’ll be ready with my ice pick and snowsuit.”

The soft slapping sound Lewis’ hands make when they meet his face paints a sly smile onto Nico’s lips.

“You’re insufferable today.”

-

The skates aren’t comfortable but at least they don’t smell or worse, feel wet. It was Nico who had headed straight to the ice rink before they could even look at the other stalls of the village. They both weren’t experienced skaters but neither of them was going to admit it or at all aware of how rusty their teen day ice skating skills had gotten. So now they waddle over to the entry trying not to accidentally cut off a kid’s fingers and slip onto the ice. Lewis immediately grips onto the plastic fencing of the rink so hard it’s about to cut through his gloves.

Nico isn’t much better off. He pushes himself onto the ice and just keeps sliding, upper body leaning forward increasingly, arms outstretched, only a faint idea of how to stop. A family in front of him pulls a little girl using a penguin out of the way before he softly hits the barrier. That’s not what he imagined their first spin on blades to go like. When he was young he had his own pair of boots and in his memory he was quite decent, too. Nothing like what he is delivering now. He knows Lewis wants to laugh, he can almost hear it behind him, feels it, but when he looks around he isn’t greeted with mocking laughter. Instead he sees Lewis making his way towards him. Slowly. More walking than gliding. Their eyes meet and they both get the same glint in their eyes that they recognize from when they were young: fun, competitiveness and mischief.

With steps that are a lot more determined than just a second ago they move towards each other and promptly crash into each other. Lewis, trying to keep his bum from meeting the ice, grabs Nico’s hand and throws his upper body upwards, taking their hands with him. In return Nico is propelled backwards and he feels himself losing his balance even more. One foot lifted up, nearly hitting Lewis in the thigh, he transitions from sliding to falling backwards. Both hands free now he grabs at the air and gets caught in one of Lewis’ coat pockets and pulls him to the ground and on top of him. A man that was idly skating in circles mumbles at them in annoyed French, thinking he can’t be understood but it only makes the collision pair burst out into laughter.

“Under other circumstances and in a different place I’d kiss you now,” Nico mumbles, a cloud of warm breath escaping. “But people might get the wrong idea of what we’re trying to accomplish here.”

Lewis, still a grin on his lips, lightly shakes his head. “And which idea could that be? That someone can’t actually skate?” He steals a quick peck and crawls backwards, attempting to make it back onto his feet. They had acquired quite an audience, he notices, embarrassed, and as quickly as their skill level permits, they get up.

After they have both pat down their pants, removing any icy residue from their clothes, Nico offers Lewis his hand.

“Let’s not entertain the masses any more. At least for the moment I could do with some peaceful practice time.“ He laughs, not a bitter laugh, but his disappointment in not being able to pick up where he left off a few years ago, is discernible. Slowly they make it back to the edges and realize that putting fear and competition aside did allow them to make it over rather gracefully. A blink later Nico pushes himself off the edge in a smooth motion and starts running across the frozen surface. Over his shoulder he screams: “Fooled you, didn’t I?” and a high joyous sound echoes back from him, followed by a low growl like scream. Nico manages to describe a sad but fast half circle around a man that, if you ask him, suddenly appeared before him, and slams back into the wall. The impact pushes the air out of his lungs and draws a groan out of him. With the most bored look Nico has ever experienced from someone who tried to communicate with him, the ice rink operator stares him down while he points to a sign that states that skating aids are available for rent in bright, contrasting colours. Nico gives him a weak thumbs up, with no intention to take him up on the offer.

Now Lewis’ laughter really is behind him and there is no way to escape.

“I don’t know who’s the fool now, deary,” Lewis mocks.

“Please, don’t. Two painfully uncomfortable situations in the last few minutes are two too many.”

Without another word Lewis takes one of Nico’s hands in both of his and kisses his gloved knuckles. “Will the prince permit me taking him on one last lazy spin around this very lovely rink?”

Nico nods and slowly they more crawl than gracefully glide around the oval, holding onto each other. It mostly works and Nico even manages to lean his head on Lewis’ shoulder for a moment, before he has to concentrate on making it around a corner. For once, no one stares at them.

When a kid jumps over the barrier and inadvertently brings down Nico, Lewis decides it’s time to go home. Or at least leave the bruise machine that is this ice rink. Nico can only agree and lets himself be helped up. One arm around his waist, Lewis half pushes, half gently guides him to the exit and helps him take off the boots. Nico’s ankle hurts and he just hopes it isn’t sprained. He might not have to get into a car to compete anymore but he can imagine better early Christmas presents.

-

Lewis still has his arm around Nico’s hip, taking his weight off his battered foot, as they slowly make their way along the blue and white painted stalls. A lot of it is generic and plastic, the products they offer as well as the decoration itself. It’s almost a turn off, ruining the atmosphere, but he decides to just enjoy their time together, happily aware of the warmth coming off of Nico.

“Do you want a drink yet?”

“No, I’m good, let’s just keep looking around for a while longer.”

“Just asking so you won’t have to walk all the way back with your bad foot if you end up wanting something from here."

“Oh, it’s okay, I can handle it,” Nico smiles at him. “Hungry?”

“A little, but don’t worry about it, I didn’t expect there to be much for me and packed a ration." He’s about to smugly pat the inner pocket of his coat when his eye catches on the blue dress of a small Mary figure and he stops mid air.

“Look, they’re selling all the parts you need for a nativity scene over there!”

“Oh, yes, very beautiful,” Nico replies.

“We should take a closer look, don’t you think?” Lewis somehow manages to keep a completely straight and innocent face.

Seeing through his games anyway, Nico shifts his weight to his uninjured foot. “What do you want a nativity scene for? We don’t even have a tree.”

“The birth of Jesus exists outside of Christmas trees, you must know that.” They both know it’s not a serious discussion. Nico only wants to stop Lewis from a purchase that could clutter the limited and steadily shrinking space in their flat. But who could say no to carved stables and happy wooden parents? Surely not Nico. Nico, who bought a new cabinet for all things crafting after having tried a single craft for two weeks. He would give in in a minute. And if Nico insisted on a tree, there was still a plastic one from last year in storage somewhere.

“Fine,” Nico whispers already, “Only because it’s you.”, and lets himself be half lifted off his feet and carried the few steps to the stall.

The Mary Lewis saw is indeed as beautiful as it looked from afar and he puts a finger on it protectively, as if to say this is mine, no need to inspect it closer. The accompanying Joseph on the other hand is hunched over and has a Quasimodo look to him; in between reminding himself that he is wood, Lewis worries about his posture. And something in him tells him he can’t break up the pair, even if the Joseph will need to see an orthopaedist down the line and even though there’s a shepherd figurine they could use as a Joseph that, for unknown reasons, is standing up straight. So another finger wanders over the shrimp postured Joseph. Can’t defy your holy instincts.

After a couple of minutes his fingers aren’t enough anymore to lay claim to everything he wants and a slightly disgruntled Nico has a small pile of wood in either of his hands. At first the stall-keeper had eyed them up warily but Lewis managed to flatter his goods enough that his response to every unnecessarily detailed question and every comment got cheerier over time. Maybe he just saw his profit rising but the reaction made Nico visibly relax and his expression turned close to solemn over time. Until Lewis pulls an elephant off the shelf, that is.

“Uhm.. Lewis?,” he hears a careful voice, almost too tender to be Nico’s.

“Hm,” he replies, checking the elephant’s stomach for cracks.

“I know I’m no expert but I’m a bit unsure about there having been elephants at Bethlehem. At least at the stable.”

“Hm,” he makes again.

He is about the place the elephant on one of the piles when he sees Nico’s expression and shakes his head. “Sorry, you’re right. Got a bit lost in the euphoria, I think.”

“You think.. Alright, do you _think_ you have everything you need for your pompous scene?”

It’s half a rhetorical question but Lewis starts listing everything while handing it over to the ecstatic stall-keeper one by one to pay. “One pair of parents, might need to see a doctor, a tiny Jesus in his manger, some shepherds,” – there are five – “one seems a very good walker, a flock of sheep,” – they make up the biggest part – a donkey, a cow, an ox, a trough so no one goes thirsty, three wise men in different variations with their gifts aaand a star that lights up.” He looks at the empty hands before him and frantically looks around the display before them. “We don’t have an actual stable, Jesus doesn’t have a roof over his head! As if being born into a manger isn’t harsh enough now he’s going to be rained on.” Yes, it’s ridiculous and over the top but his scene is so close to completion, he can’t not have the accompanying building.

The stall-keeper lets out a vibrating belly laugh that makes even people at the candy floss machine one stall over look at them. He pulls out two variations of a medium sized stable and holds them out to both of them. “Left,” Nico says, pointing his chin in the direction.

“Left," Lewis agrees.

With a cheerful hum the man puts everything into a large paper bag.

-

Coming out of the Christmas village he always expects the lights to illuminate the entire city, especially this year, with the lights being reflected by the fake snow, ice and whiteness all over. However, mere metres after the exit, the orange light of Monaco street lights warmly wraps around them already and moves their shadows over the hilly sidewalks. Nico is still being supported while walking and while the wood-filled bag provides somewhat of a counterweight to Lewis, the occasional slope noticeably slows them down. The air on the other hand is still filled with the scent of frying fat, roasted nuts and spices steaming from mulled wine pots nearly up to their building.

After Lewis had gone wild at the nativity and ornament stall they had decided they didn’t feel like cooking and that it would be best to grab something to eat at one of the food stands. Good idea in theory. If you have no problem exploiting animals. Finding anything at all for Lewis proved to be more difficult than they initially thought it would be in this day and age. Sure, they are a stone’s throw away from less than supportive France but even there you didn’t go hungry, so why did Monaco decide to make things more difficult? In the end they settled on tartiflette for Nico and Lewis had to make do with fries. He didn’t complain. Taking a closer look at what some stalls on the other side had to offer would have had him lugging Nico there and then all the way back again and as much love as he has in himself for him, he wasn’t up for it.

By the time they are back in their flat they don’t even bother putting their purchase up or even away from the entry. All they do is tie a precautionary cooling pack to Nico’s ankle and go to bed.

-

When Nico wakes up the next morning and moves himself from the bed to the sofa, Lewis is already busy. He sits on the floor, taking one figurine after another out of the bag and dusting nonexistent dirt off of them with a soft brush usually reserved for cleaning drawers and light switches. The dedication makes him feel warm all over.

At the tired groan coming from his mouth, Lewis looks up at him. “Good morning!”

Nico would say it’s way too cheery, but looking at the time it’s definitely his own fault.

“How’s the Mister’s foot?”

Right. His foot. The cooling pack had come off during the night. It wasn't that he was a restless sleeper, it's just that a kitchen towel simply doesn’t make for a good bandage. Right now he didn’t even particularly feel his foot or ankle, on the way to the living room nothing had hurt. “Good, it’s behaving.”

“In that case, I have a proposition to make.”

“Oh? What type of proposition,” Nico asks carefully.

“Come to Midnight Mass with me tonight?”

Before he realises what’s happening, an _ugh_ escapes him.

Lewis’ face falls. Nico feels bad immediately but the response he gets is much kinder and understanding than he expected or feels like he deserves at all.

“I know you’re not a fan. I know, but I’d really like it if you came with me just this once.” Then carefully teasing Lewis adds: “You never come to church on Sundays and that’s fine, it’s early and maybe boring to you, but this is an evening service, no excuses.”

You know when sometimes you do something stupid and imprudent and you regret it immediately and wish only bad things onto yourself for it and then your husband, who was the innocent victim of your morning whims, reacts in the loveliest way you could imagine and it makes you love him even more than you thought you already did and it’s so overwhelming you can only smile at them fondly? Nico knows they’re going to Midnight Mass and Lewis can see it too.

“When does it start?”

-

Unlike the name suggests, Midnight Mass doesn’t actually start at midnight. Which gives them time to have dinner, wrap presents, chill and build their nativity scene, albeit not enough thinking time to get to the stress you feel when something is unrelentingly getting closer.

In other households putting up a nativity scene might have taken a few minutes tops but not at the Hamilton-Rosberg house, oh no. Yes, all the figures are in place quickly, but wait, what is this, no straw in the manger? And shouldn’t the poor sheep have water to drink – they’re made of wood Lewis – and grass to stand on? They compromise and put blue wrap in the trough and get moss they somehow have in Nico’s craft cabinet. And the wise men? Shouldn’t they be on a road or pathway or something else to walk on? Sand. It ends up being sand and Nico wonders out loud how they are supposed to clean in the next weeks without destroying this masterpiece.

Lewis has to admit he did maybe go a little over the top but the figures sparked something in him and he had to make it perfect. It’s his first nativity scene as an adult where he gets to pick out all the pieces in the sizes he wants them to be and not giving it his all would have been a waste of the art and money. But mostly the art, of course.

“Aren’t you glad now we went to the village yesterday?” It’s a cheeky question meant to coerce Nico into admitting his masterpiece upgrades the living room.

“You know, the tree–, oh sorry, the stick was a failure and I didn’t have much hope of getting the atmosphere but I’ll give it to you, the scene looks great. It’s beautiful.”

“Ha!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry for not being thrilled from the get go, the ice beat me up and spontaneous wood purchases aren’t something I’m used to. Is anyone ever? Anyway, you did great.” Nico, who sits on the ground on the other side of the crèche, reaches for Lewis’ neck and pulls him closer for a kiss.

“Thank you.” It really means a lot and the smile that had gotten wiped over Midnight Mass is finally back on. “Ready for late breakfast?”

-

Lewis must have set the table hours earlier, the Christmas place mats are up already and some decorations are spread out in the middle of it.

“Now that we’re going to Midnight Mass do you think we should have a proper Christmas dinner as preparation for Mass,” Nico asks over a bite of toast. “Also, I remembered a second ago, isn’t the holy Pope doing it on TV, too?”

Lewis’ rolls his eyes. “I’m all for a pre-Mass meal, but I don’t think the pope is going to share his eating with us.”

“Lord help me,” he sighs but continues, “soo, what do you want? What is it you British people have, mince pies and those crackers with the crowns?”

“Oh, and you surely want sausages and cabbage then.”

“Look at me, I’m the Queen, my crown is green and I tell bad jokes,” Nico says in the worst best British accent his muscles can muster.

They try not to laugh, they really do, it’s not that funny after all, but after looking at each other with their lips pressed shut tightly, neither of them can keep it together.

Between laughs Lewis gets up and runs over into the hallway. When he comes back he grins. “You won’t believe it. But. As a matter of fact, I bought Christmas crackers. I couldn’t help it.”

“Aah, that was that mysterious package I wasn’t allowed to see then. I thought it was a present for me,” Nico jokingly pouts.

“You can pretend it is, it’s a surprise present for everyone.”

“Do you have mince pies, too?”

“Iii don’t.” Lewis tilts his head provocatively. “But we can try our hand at making some if you’re curious.”

Nico ponders on it. He’s not opposed to baking something new, he doesn't really know what mince pies were anyway. Lewis never bought them, probably didn’t care all that much about them, so he only knew the name and that it’s eaten around Christmas. That’s not really what’s making him think though. It’s the disaster Lewis and him tend to be when they’re in the kitchen. Now add fine, loose ingredients and it’s the perfect setup for the biggest, most dangerous mess.

Lewis has already added raised eyebrows to his tilted head so Nico nods.

-

They decide to get ready first and then look for a recipe that is suitable for Lewis. Nico didn’t realise that there isn’t actual meat in mincemeat so it didn’t prove very difficult, only to Nico’s surprise they had all the ingredients.

“I never thought your love of experimenting with energy balls would help us spend some Christmas-y baking time together.”

“It’s like despite your attitude I knew that one day we’d need all these nuts and dried fruits that you hate.”

“Hey, I don’t hate all dried fruits, I just don’t care very much for raisins. I just prefer eating the real grape without all the wrinkles.”

“Well, you’ll learn to love them, just you see.” His head hovers over the recipe. “Can you go pick out the spices, I’ll get the rest.”

Silently they rummage through their drawers, occasionally walking back to the counter where they had the website open on a tablet. It’s a lot more than Nico initially thought.

“So now we just mix it? That can’t be right. There will be chunks of everything still in shape, that sounds.. very strange.”

“It’s not! Believe me, you’ll like it. And the heat with the liquid will make it all stick together, don’t worry.”

And that’s what they do. Throw everything together and put it in the oven. No incidents, just pouring cups and teaspoons of every festive condiment imaginable into a bowl. When they get to the flour for the dough Nico almost expects payback for the fistful of sand from the day before but nothing happens. Nothing bad at least. Lewis does paint on his face with the flour and he does it back and it’s nothing but toothache inducing sweetness. While the food processor runs they even find the time for a quick cuddle and sway to the Christmas playlist they had on since setting up the nativity scene.

“Do you want the lids to be a specific shape,” Lewis asks once they are done rolling out dough and filling the tray.

“Uhm, I don’t know, is there a traditional one? Like a leaf or heart or something?”

“Stars I think are most common, but you can do whatever you like.”

“Okay, stars sound good.” And with a suggestive look he adds:” And a few hearts maybe.”

“Idiot.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“My idiot,” Lewis corrects.

Over cutting out hearts and stars he asks Nico: “This isn’t exactly dinner material, it could be but you know.. sweet and not a lot of variety. What I mean is, what do you fancy for proper dinner?”

It’s then that Nico realises how little they had planned this year's Christmas and he doesn’t know why. This is the first year they didn’t go shopping for the days around the holiday or even talked about what they wanted to do, they just knew they were going to spend the days together doing whatever they wanted. Nice but now they had to make do with what they had in the house.

“Potatoes? Potato salad? It’s a tradition after all.”

“And cabbage?”

“You and your cabbage, whoever told you that must have tried to set you up against me.”

“I mean, isn’t that what german people eat, your mum must have made it for you, I don’t see why not on Christmas as well.”

“I guess,” Nico shrugs. “But I don’t want any cabbage now, okay. Just potato salad is fine. Do we have some of those tofu sausages left that you brought home the other day? I think they’d be good with the salad.”

“We do, chef Nico, absolutely.”

“Potato salad it is then, sous-chef Lewis. We should just hurry and make it soon to give it a chance to marinate and soak up all the water. We don’t want a dry or soggy salad, right?”

“A chef you are indeed. Let’s finish those up and then we can get the potatoes boiling.”

-

The pies end up being perfect. In Lewis’ opinion the crust is a good texture and the flavour of the filling.. Oh the filling. Delicious. They sprinkle the pies with icing sugar and for some reason that’s all it takes to make Nico lose his reluctance towards the pies’ whole fruits. As predicted, he loves them. That’s what he said at least and by the way he keeps going for the plate several times Lewis believes him just this once.

The potato salad on the other hand is a bit bland although with the sausages, which have a lot of seasoning to make it taste of anything at all, it makes for a decent pre-Mass dinner.

"I have a question. How is Mass gonna go,” Nico mumbles over mostly empty plates.

“Long.”

“Long. Amazing, you revealed it all.”

“Yes, long, what am I supposed to say, it’s like regular Mass, you stand up, you say things, you sit down, you stand back up again, sing, sit down, sing, pray.. there’s more lights!”

“Wait, and that’s what you want me to come to?”

“Yes, I already said. It would mean a lot to me if you came with. Are you trying to get out of it again?”

“Well, I checked and the pope does appear on TV for Mass, just saying.” And for some obscene reason, Nico winks.

“Jesus Christ, we need to get the dishes away and this table cleaned, it’s getting too close to eleven for me to deal with suggestive pope thoughts. Seriously.”

-

They manage to slip in at the last minute. The bells are already making their first sounds and Lewis is convinced they won’t find a place to sit, Nico will make a face the entire time and complain loudly about having to stand for two hours afterwards although it was his fault they were late in the first place. He still makes time to dip his fingers into the Holy Water while a girl presses a small lighted candle for each of them into their hands. Like a gift sent by Christ himself, a family sees them checking the rows and the oldest woman in the group makes everyone budge up with just a tilt of her head in the right direction. Suddenly there are two narrow spaces that perfectly fit two athletes.

The first prayer of the night is spoken before the priest has even shown his face and it’s absolutely about getting someone’s husband a place to sit.

Finally, the organ sounds, everyone quiets down and gets up. The priest with the ministrants comes in and everyone starts singing. Lewis’ thoughts immediately focus on what is happening in front of him, the solemn atmosphere calming his body and as cheesy as it sounds, his soul as well. Soon, the messy arrival is forgotten.

The old lady is nice enough to share her song sheet with Nico which makes Lewis smile and nudge him to encourage him to sing along to at least the first song of the night but he only manages a few notes. It’s okay, it’s new for him after all. When everyone crosses themselves afterwards his hand is all over the place. Which is also okay, except Lewis is fairly certain whatever he did would in no world describe a cross. He finds it quite endearing. Even when darling husband tries to sit down again after the _Kyrie_ and Lewis grips his upper arm to pull him back up so hard it might bruise. The sigh that comes out of his mouth once they are allowed to sit can probably be heard by half of the congregation.

The rest of Mass goes by smoothly for the most part. Lewis still has to drag Nico up and down with him every time there is a change of position, he doesn’t know some of the songs, although not all of them; it is Christmas after all and the church people have mercy on the Christmas catholics. To even the old lady’s surprise Nico eventually joins in the repeated answers. The first critical part comes during the reading and sermon. Because Nico starts yawning.

Lewis doesn’t say anything.

Then his blinking starts slowing down.

Lewis doesn’t do anything.

And then his head starts drifting forward and slowly down towards his chest and the burning candle.

All Lewis does is push him back so he’s upright. He’s feeling generous.

Other than that he’s as good as any tired child that got taken to Mass. He somewhat excitedly puts money in the basket during collection, he says the _Our Father_ with everyone, just in his own language, he shakes hands with everyone around them to wish them peace and a blessed Christmas and he doesn’t protest or ask when Lewis holds him in place when everyone else gets up to receive the communion. The church may have gotten a little bit more liberal but it still held onto needing to complete first communion class before receiving the Eucharist. Had Nico gone up to get bread, the priest may have blessed him without giving him a Host once he noticed that Nico doesn’t know what to do when coming up, except Midnight Mass is already long and everyone would certainly welcome not holding it up any longer. Sure, Nico chuckles at the older members kneeling on their way to the priest and extending their tongue to receive the host, but that’s really nothing.

All in all, Lewis is pretty proud of Nico for coming along in the first place and making it through his first Midnight Mass. He even feels like he enjoyed a good part of the service.

Once the last organ sounds have faded Lewis takes his tired husband’s hand and gently pulls him off of their pew to guide him back outside.

The air is crisp and it smells like a chance of snow. Everyone else seems to smell it too as they look up into the dark blue night sky stretching over them, where there’s not a cloud to see yet there are barely any stars visible due to the Monaco lights, especially now with the brightly illuminated trees on every free corner and even around the square in front of the church.

“Brr,” makes Nico and condensed breath hangs before his face for a split second.

“Brr,” imitates Lewis.

“That was quite nice. Thank you for taking me and sorry for being such a spoilsport about it earlier.”

“It’s okay. Forgiven and forgotten.”

“I expected something boring and cold and empty, just completely different. This was interesting, the atmosphere was warm, welcoming and full of excitement for the new day to come. That’d almost convince me to convert,” huffs Nico before falling into a reverent silence.

Lewis pulls Nico towards him and wraps his arms tightly around his waist, pressing them together.

“Merry Christmas, Nico,” he whispers into a kisses.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Lewis,” Nico whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I am not catholic and got the relevant info from catholic websites and by asking people.
> 
> Thank you for reading ♥


End file.
